What Remains Unchanged
by UConn Fan
Summary: Tony's retiring. What has life been like in Ziva's absence - and what does Tony's post-NCIS future hold?


**Author's Note: This is only the 2nd NCIS fanfiction I've ever written. Like most Tiva fans, I'm still struggling with the sad news of Cote de Pablo's decision to leave the show. This idea randomly popped in my head a few weeks ago so I thought I would write it and share it. Please let me know what you think - and if anyone seems tremendously out of character.**

Ziva David had been gone from NCIS nearly three times as many years as she'd been there. Yet the lives of her co-workers had changed in subtle, if not permanent, ways.

Any number of attractive female employees expected Tony DiNozzo to undergo a mourning period before returning to the dating scene with renewed vigor. Yet no such luck. The only females DiNozzo noticed for over twenty years were Abby, Breena Palmer and, during her short-lived marriage to McGee, Delilah. And none of that attention could be mistaken for remotely romantic.

They all began taking vacation time.

There were a few select times when Director Vance replaced his entire MCRT to allow them to go on group vacations. Damned if anyone else in NCIS could figure out why Vance made such an exception. Many bet Gibbs threatened him with bodily violence.

The first team-wide vacation occurred less than six months after Ziva's departure. For that trip, Director Vance allowed Ducky and Jimmy Palmer vacation time too. Where they went, no one ever got a straight answer – other than Vance and perhaps SecNav. Gibbs, oddly enough, left a day before everyone else. Perhaps even odder, Tony returned three days after the remainder of the team.

Approximately seventeen months later, Gibbs, Abby and Tony took rather extended vacations with random days overlapping. Abby left first. Two days later, Tony hopped on a plane to god-knows-where. Four days later, Gibbs followed. Their fearless leader was the first to return less than week after he left. Abby returned within the following week. Tony, however, took the remainder of that year's vacation time – and some of Ducky's and McGee's donated vacation days – before he returned.

Then there was the vacation to Louisiana for Abby and Tim's wedding. Or so the team claimed.

An impatient probie loitered in Abby's lab less than six months after her wedding. His eyes skimmed the pictures and mementos which littered her lab and made it uniquely her own. During his bored examination, his eyes stumbled upon the photo of Abby in her black wedding dress, standing in McGee's arms. The smiles on their faces did not surprise him. What did surprise him was the distinctly un-lush background.

"I thought you got married in New Orleans," he mused, stepping closer to the photo.

Abby glanced over her shoulder, noticing the agent studying the photo with intent. She moved faster than the probie thought possible, snatching the photo off of the wall and sticking it in a drawer. "We got married in New Orleans. Understand?"

The probie stepped back, nodding his head. "I understand."

Abby paused before a smile broke out on her face. "Great! The results are in – you've got the right guy."

The trend in exploiting vacation days did not end after the McAbby wedding – as Tony annoyingly referred to it (and would refer to it at every subsequent McAbby anniversary). Every year, Abby and Tony both took all of their allotted vacation days. A few times McGee and Gibbs convinced Vance and HR to allow Tony to take some of _their_ vacation days.

Gibbs set a new precedent. For a man who went years – literally – without taking a vacation day, he took at least a few each year. Every time he claimed to visit his aging father but he often returned with a tan too impressive for the Midwest.

For a man of advanced years, Ducky began attending more conferences and at greater distances. As he continued to age, more often Jimmy Palmer would accompany him. Oddly enough, sometimes Breena Palmer would join them.

The changes did not end with the MCRT's sudden use of vacation time, nor with Tony DiNozzo's lack of romantic interest in women. For a man who enjoyed the finest things in life – and indulging in them frequently – it did not go unnoticed by a trained observer that Tony did not buy a new watch in decades. Rolex or not, the lack of investment in his appearance seemed unnatural. The watch inscription garnered even more interest from the gossipy staff members. Less than two years after Ziva's departure, one ambitious agent caught a glimpse of the inscription one rare instance when protocol required Tony separate himself from his watch. _That which is essential is invisible to the eye_ was written in clear, small letters.

Now any changes Ziva's disappearance made on Tony DiNozzo seemed to be ending. Or at least it would no longer be fodder for NCIS staff gossip for on that day, a cool Thursday in April, Tony was retiring. On that day, the entire floor mingled in the tiny break room, sharing pieces of the _Happy Retirement Tony!_ cake Abby insisted on bringing.

"So when's your flight?" McGee asked quietly, handing his retiring friend a cup of coffee.

Tony glanced at his watch. "About six hours from now. Actually, five hours and forty-three minutes."

"But who's counting?" Abby teased, joining them with a smile. "Gibbs and Ducky are going to be there, right?" she asked, bouncing slightly. Age, thankfully, had not dampened her enthusiasm.

"In a few days. They thought it was only right to let me settle into retirement first," he grinned. Looking around the room, sipping his coffee, he shook his head and looked at his two closest friends. "It's still not the same," he sighed. Abby nodded sadly, glancing around at a room of practical strangers who happened to share the same square footage of office space as Tony. "You get used to seeing someone every day, talking to 'em, relying on 'em, then all of a sudden they're not there."

"Tony –"Abby started, cut off as McGee laid a warm hand on her forearm, shaking his head.

Tony glanced down at his bare hands. "My hands are cold," he murmured. The cool had only worsened with age.

Abby glanced down, shaking her head for a moment before her blue eyes met him with compassion. "Tony –"

"My hands are always cold in D.C.," he reminded her and she nodded solemnly. "I thought it would get better over time."

"Wouldn't be quite the same if it did," McGee murmured.

"They'll be warm before you know it," Abby smiled.

"Yeah," Tony smirked, "luckily I know just the cure."

She smiled at her friend, glancing at her husband. McGee smiled back, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "I'm so happy for you Tony," she spoke softly. "This is such a great decision."

"When is retiring a bad decision?" McGee asked his wife.

"Don't ruin the moment Timmy!"

"Should I have done it earlier?" Tony mused, eyes scanning the crowd of strangers. "It hasn't been easy."

"It's still been worth it, hasn't it?" McGee questions.

"Yes and no," he shrugged. "It could've been worse."

"A _lot_ worse," Abby emphasized.

"Thanks for the optimism Abs."

"You know I _never_ would have let you be that miserable!" she insisted.

McGee looked affronted, "and I would have?"

"It's different Timmy," she assured him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"So when are you two retiring?" Tony asked.

Abby shrugged while Tim sipped his coffee. "I'm thinking in the next three to five years. I won't be fully retiring, I still have to fulfill my publisher's contract," he explained.

"Ah, good ole Deep Six, how could I forget?" he teased his long-time friend. "I expect to continue to get signed first editions," he added.

"Like you even read them," Tim scoffed.

"Someone reads them," Tony quickly assured him. "And I'm interested in seeing what my alter ego does after I retire."

"Maybe he'll retire and leave me alone," Tim mused. "Oh, wait, he already did," he caught Tony's gaze playfully.

"You know you're going to miss me," Tony insisted.

Tim glanced around the break room at the slowly dwindling crowd. "I can't believe I'm Major Crimes team leader."

"Neither can I," Tony agreed, shrugging at his friend's dirty look. Stepping closer, he rested a shoulder on his friend's shoulder. "You're going to be fine Tim."

"Thanks Tony, that means a lot."

"Just remember to be this nice to me when you see me next time."

"I knew there was a catch," Tim groaned. Abby stood between them, watching the verbal banter with a smile on her face.

After what felt to Tony like forty-eight hours – but in fact was less than twenty-four – he stepped out of the cab, thanking the driver with a hefty tip. He hitched his duffel higher up his shoulder and set his wheeled suitcase on the ground. He studied the tranquility, the well-manicured property with beautiful flowers and a remarkably well-maintained Corvette in the driveway.

As he approached the hunter green front door, Tony realized the scene may be peaceful but certainly not quiet. He groaned at the noise echoing from the house. He liked Patty Griffin's _Living with Ghosts_ album just fine – the first fifty times. Not for the first time, Tony wished he could go back and prevent Breena from ever sharing the music with Tommy. After all, what was wrong with preferring The Boss?

Tony shuddered at the thought of _his_ Boss playing _Born to Run_. No offense to Springsteen, but the nickname would always make him think of Gibbs.

The music grew louder as he unlocked the door, dragging his suitcase behind him. He dropped his keys on the table next to the door and dropped both his duffel and suitcase. Tony turned around, facing the living room and coming to an abrupt halt.

The room remained the same, painted in light gray with an electric variety of posters and photographs on the wall. The photos ran the gauntlet of group photos, school photos, wedding photos – even photos of Gibbs smiling. The movie poster for _It's a Wonderful Life_ hung proudly in a frame across the room from him. One of his favorite photos, however, hung proudly on the wall next to him – a framed photo of a beautiful brunette in Paris.

The click of typing diverted his attention to the occupied sofa. "You're working. It's after six, why are you working?"

"Not all of us are retired," she teased, setting her laptop on the coffee table. She stood, walking over to him in bare feet.

He smirked, resting his arm around her waist as her arms circled his shoulders with familiarity. They smiled at one another, the smile only long-parted, long-term lovers can share, before Tony kissed her. "Not all of us can telecommute and work for the U.S. government while paying minimal income tax."

"Israel pays me too," she reminded him with her own smirk. Pulling back slightly, she brought a hand up to caress his left cheek. "You need to shave," she murmured.

"Personal hygiene is so overrated for a single man."

"Then it's a good thing you're not a single man."

Tony gave her a playfully shocked expression, pulling up his left hand. "Oh, look at that. I'm not."

"You are getting old, my little hairy butt, if you suddenly forget the last twenty two years of matrimony," she teased. After what Abby called their "freakishly long courtship," they dated long-distance for less than six months before marrying. Unbeknownst to the remainder of the team, Tony proposed before he ever kissed her, dropping to his knee in an olive grove, determined to convince her they needed one another.

He shook his head, his green eyes serious and pulled her close. "My hands are cold every day in D.C. Would you believe me if I told you I look at this ring every night before bed?" he questioned. Ziva nodded, glancing down at her own rings. "I'm just grateful I have the watch."

"I'm pleased it still works."

"For what you paid for it, it better work," he reminded her.

"You were never supposed to know how much it cost. It was a wedding gift," she reminded him, stepping back slightly. "We discussed it; I knew you could not wear the ring. I wanted something for you to display," she shrugged.

"I love it when you get jealous," he teased, kissing her again.

"Will you two get a room?" an aggravated male voice demanded.

Tony separated slightly from Ziva, rolling his eyes as she chuckled. "Last time I checked, I helped pay the mortgage so I think this _is_ my room," he responded. He turned around, coming face to face with the dark haired, green-eyed young man. "Thomas Jethro, I thought I told you to listen to more Springsteen and less Patty Griffin," he mused. Tony's son rolled his eyes in response, quietly accepting his father's quick, light hug.

"I could listen to Aunt Abby's music," he reminded his parents.

"We should be grateful for that, yes," Ziva agreed, smiling at the two most important men in her life. She wanted to name their son after Tony, but her husband insisted there were too many Anthony DiNozzos. Tony recoiled at the thought of inadvertently naming their son after DiNozzo Senior. One day, visiting the couple near the end of Ziva's pregnancy, Ducky remarked they could name him after Tony's literary alter ego. And thus Thomas Jethro DiNozzo, named after his father's literary alter ego and the father his parents only wished they had, was born.

"I thought you were working today," Tony asked his son. After all, he'd looked forward to some reunion rendezvousing with his beautiful bride.

"I took the day off," he shrugged.

Ziva stood closer to her husband, resting her hand on his stomach, "yes, Tali wants to come over for dinner. She's bringing dinner, actually. She should be here shortly," she noted, looking at the clock.

"Glad one of my children missed me," he guised as Tommy rolled his green eyes.

Talia Mary DiNozzo entered the world approximately three minutes after her big brother. Her parents found it far easier to name her after the two female family members her parents loved the most.

"I'll go to Tali's after dinner," Tommy shrugged. "I mean, she's got that really cute roommate now," he smirked and walked out of the living room.

Tony pulled Ziva close, kissing the top of her head. "Please tell me I was not that annoying when you met me."

"You were worse," she teased, tipping her chin to meet his lips. "And it was worse – you were more than ten years older than he is now."

"Thank god I met you," he whispered in between kisses.

Ziva grinned as they separated, her palm resting against his cheek. "I suppose you were lucky that way."

"Hey, don't pretend you're not lucky to have me," he protested half-heartedly.

Her smile faded slightly and she ran her fingers casually through his hair – even after more than two decades, the freedom to touch him sometimes gave her chills. "Our relationship will always be the most important thing in my life," she reminded him.

"I can't believe I'm finally home for good," he grinned, pulling her close and glancing around their living room.

Their journey had never proved easy, but now, standing in his living room with his wife in his arms, it certainly proved worth it.


End file.
